


Past Demons

by GhostwithShotgun



Category: The Maze Runner Series - All Media Types, The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Artist Newt, Depressed Newt, M/M, Mentions of attempted suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-23
Updated: 2015-08-23
Packaged: 2018-04-16 19:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4637142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostwithShotgun/pseuds/GhostwithShotgun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Newt's been living in the US for five years. Five years since his "accident". Five years of happiness. Why did he have to have a bad night now?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Past Demons

Newt reached out for his paint, and stopped. He glanced over at the knife again, but then shook his head. The friends he had now didn't know anything about his past, and he would like it to remain that way. Thomas would notice the cuts right away. He picked the black paint up and went over to the canvas. He was going to get trough tonight, just like he had done in the past: by painting. 

He even had to admit to himself that he was good at painting. He wasn't really one for sketching, at least not when he was at home, and he could do almost anything on a canvas. Whatever he sketched when he was out of the house, he later painted on a canvas. But he had been happy for five years now, and it was a long time since he had done something dark. Most of the time he drew people, smiling, or nature. He had destroyed all the paintings he made back then before they moved here. He had told his new friends that his limp came from when he had climbed a tree as a kid and fallen to the ground. They didn't have to know that he'd gotten the limp quite recently, nor that it came from a fall from the top of a building and that it wasn't accidental. They didn't have to know any of that. 

He had moved here to get a fresh start, and it had worked. _But I guess nothing lasts forever._ He had felt pretty moody all day, and when he got back to his apartment it had only gotten worse. A feeling he was all too used to. 

His hands were shaking, but he clenched his jaw and tried to focus. He needed to let his feelings out in some way, and this was the only one that didn't involve hurting himself. The first line was a little bit uneven, but after that it worked perfectly. He worked hard to let all his aggression, hopelessness, lonlieness and frustration out. Why was this happening? How had he managed to fall back to this dark state of mind? How long was it going to last this time?

He was interrupted by someone knocking on his front door. He glanced over at the clock. _11.53pm_ Who the fuck would want something at this hour? He decided to just continue painting. The brush just touched the canvas when the person knocked again. _For fuck's sake._ He put the brush down, vaugley aware that his hands were almost covered in black paint and that he probably had some in his face too. He was going to politely tell whoever it was to fuck off. He was not in the mood. 

He swung the door open, having gotten more irritated with each step.

"I am not..." he begun, but then he saw who it was. Thomas stood in front of him, holding two pizzas and a few movies. All his anger faded.

"Tommy?" he asked. The boy in ront of him lit up.

"Hey, Newt. Thought that we might celebrate that it's Friday." he said and walked into the apartment without waiting for an invitation. Newt suddenly became hyperaware that the door into his bedroom was still open, and that Thomas would just need to look up to see the painting. It wasn't finished, but you could easily see the motive. When Thomas didn't say anything, Newt knew he had seen it. He felt all enegry leave his body. This was it. Thomas had seen the painting. He would decide that Newt was completely psycho and leae Newt and Newt would no longer have a best friend. He closed the door, and then sank to the floor with his back against it. Thomas noticed and turned back to him.

"Newt? How are you feeling? Tha's not... what you usually paint." he said and sank down on his knees in front of Newt. Newt refused to look Thomas in the eyes. He couldn't bear to see the disgust and horror that would surely be there. He slowly shook his head.

"It's fine, Tommy. Having a sort of bad night, sorry." he muttered. He didn't want Thomas to know about his history or worry. It was easier to pretend that everything was fine. He felt a hand on his shoulder and looked up before he could stop himself. Thomas was looking right at him, but it wasn't at all the look he had imagined. It was just true worry and care.

"In all the years I've known you, I haven't seen anything like that. And no offense, but you don't look like 'it's fine'. Let's go to the sofa, and then we're gonna talk." Thomas said friendly, and moved his hand from Newt's shoulder to his upper arm to drag Newt up from the floor. Thomas bent down to pick the pizza up too, and then led the way to the living room. They sat down on the sofa, Newt on the edge and looking at the floor. He could see a few blue spots from when he'd painted the sea like a month or so ago. He waited for Thomas to start talking.

"How are you, really? You look like you've just discovered that you're haunted by something." Thomas asked after a minute of silence. Newt could feel the stare. He shrugged.

"I sort of am." he turned to face Thomas. He had made up his mind, he was going to tell Thomas and then Thomas could decide for himself if he should take it or leave it.

"I haven't told you all about my past." he said, and couldn't help but feel a bit unsure. The only ones who knew was his closest relatives. He was about to tell Thomas his darkest secret. Thomas just looked confused, and Newt braced himself to tell the story.

"Before I moved here... I've got a long history of depression. I mostly painted stuff like the work you just saw. It was my alternative to self harm. And my limp... Well, it's from a fall, but it's much more recent, from higher up than a tree and not accidental..." he trailed off a bit, and Thomas look like he'd just gotten his bloody heart broken. Newt decided to continue before his best friend could say anything.

"When I woke up at the hospital, I decided to move away to try and get a fresh start and that's how I ended up here. I've been just fine and happy these last five years, I promise, but like I said before, tonight I'm having a bad night." he finished and squeezed his eyes shut in fear of the response. Thomas was one of the most sweet and caring persons he knew, but maybe this would just be too much even for him. They were quiet for a long whie, and with each passing minute Newt's hope lessened. He tried to look anywhere but at Thomas.

"Why didn't you tell me?" When Thomas finally spoke again, his voice was quiet and Newt almost jumped in surprise.

"I was afraid I would somehow trigger the bloody thing again if I talked about it. And I was scared that you would all abandon me and I would be alone again." he almost whispered. Now Thomas' eyes darted to Newt with a speed that was almost supernatural.

"Why would we abandon you for that? You can't help it. I just wish I'd noticed earlier. I mean, that quote is true. You know, the one about how the saddest people smile the brightest and the wisest people are the most damaged and all that." he mumbled, and Newt couldn't help but smile slightly.

"I bloody told you I've been happy for these last years, so the smile thing doesn't really fit, does it?" he pointed out and Thomas smiled.

"Yeah, well. The one about the wise people is still true. But really, if you ever have any more bad nights, call me. It doesn't matter what time it is, I'll be over. You shouldn't deal with those nights by yourself." Thomas said, and Newt felt his whole heart swell. Thomas had to be the most caring person ever. He nodded and Thomas smiled brightly before standing up and grabbing one of the movies.

"Good. I'm glad I chose some comedies." he said before putting the disc in the player. Newt stood up to go to the kitchen to warm the pizza up a bit, and then he returned with hot pizza and plates for them. He sat down on the sofa again and put his feet up too. While Thomas started the movie, Newt took a slice of pizza and sat back. 

As the movies went on, Newt grew more and more tired and didn't really notice that he slowly leaned more towards Thomas. He did notice, though, when he was resting his head against Thomas' shoulder. When Thomas didn't flinch away, Newt decided that he could stay that way. He was almost too comfortable and could feel his eyes slowly shutting. He let them. He was almost asleep when he spoke again.

"Love you, Tommy." he muttered, aware of what he was saying but not actually aware that he was really saying it.

"Love you too, Newt." Thomas replied, and with a smile Newt snuggled even closer.

**************

When he woke up the next day Thomas was still there, sleeping with his head leaning against the back of the sofa. Newt carefully untangled their limbs and went to change clothes. He walked into his bedroom, and stopped to stare when he saw the painting. He had painted a black and white version of how he imagined he would've looked on the ground if his jump had really killed him. He quickly grabbed some white paint and started working on covering up the black. He almost didn't notice Thomas in the doorway.

"Morning." Thomas said, and Newt jumped slightly and sropped some paint on the floor. 

"Mornin" he replied with a smile and turnedback to the canvas, when he remembered what he and Thomas had said to eachother last night. He couldn't really determine if it had actually happened, or if he had dreamt it. He turned to see if he could find any clues in Thomas' face, but the boy was gone. Newt barely got to wonder where he'd gone when he heard a shout from the kitchen, followed by a bowl hitting the floor. Newt chuckled and turned back to the canvas. He didn't doubt that Thomas would make him breakfast too, so he didn't have to worry about that.

Newt was right. When he walked into the kitchen after coering the whole canvas with white paint, Thomas was just putting the last few things on the table. Newt sat down and they ate and talked with the radio playing in the background. It was really cozy, actually.

When Thomas decided to go back home, Newt followed him to the hallway.

"Well... thanks." he said, and he knew Thomas would understand what he meant. Thomas smiled.

"You don't have to thank me for that. I'm just glad I decided to show up here last night. And I won't tell the others. I'm sure if you ever want them to know, you'll tell them." he said, and then he stood on his tiptoes to kiss Newt on the temple, before walking to the door.

"See you at school." he smiled before closing the door behind him. Newt put two fingers against his temple and smiled. It had actually happened, then.


End file.
